Forsaken
by Alice von wonderland
Summary: Grell is tired of being lonely. So what if he's over the top? Doesn't he deserve someone to be with? There are so many options, but who would choose him? Who would want him? Yaoi, multiple pairings w/i Seb., Will, and Undertaker. Almost like a soapopera
1. Nights of Destitute

Title: Nights of Destitute

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: A sad Grell

Summary: Grell is tired of being lonely. So what if he's over the top? Doesn't he deserve someone to be with? There are so many options, but who would choose him? Who would want him?

Chapter Number: #1

Author Note: The length of this story will depend mostly on reception. If it's liked it may end up exploding. If it's nodded at it may end up four chapters long. Definitely will not be a one-shot. Could turn M rated at the drop of a hat if Grell ever finds love.

I just want to show his calmer side…you know, the one that explains why anyone would give him the ability to kill people…

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Grell didn't cry often…well, he did, but he didn't. Not for real at least. Sure, theatric tears were good when they added an appropriate touch to a situation where tears were beneficial, but when it came down to it he really didn't cry that much. That's why, while sitting in his room alone as was usual and always had been, he was surprised to find the painful pressure at the backs of his eyes. He felt the pressure travel down from his eyes to the bridge of his nose which seemed to swell painfully until the water finally leaked out his tear ducts and watered his cheeks with clear lines that would later leave raw stripes on his face.

It wasn't that he was not an emotional creature. That was not the reason he seldom cried. It was those damn lines that tears left. Wiping them away turned his whole face red, and if he let them be they dried and made lines like scars. Not to mention the horrid redness of his eyes afterwards. Yes, red was a lovely colour, but not in inappropriate excess and certainly not in his eyes and rubbed on his cheeks so unbecomingly.

With a quiet sound like a whimper and a sigh, Grell removed his glasses and set them on the stand aside his bed to prevent them from becoming streaked with the unwelcome tears. It was all his fault…and his fault…and his fault too! And, in a way, it was his own fault as well. Was he really that incapable of controlling where his heart strayed? It was bad enough having a love that there was no chance of succeeding in, but having another attachment to another man who sometimes seemed interested and often seemed not was torturous…Not to mention the third gentleman.

Grell had read romance novels, he enjoyed them as much as any _woman_ would. Living vicariously through the leading lady was freeing. In the end she was always satisfied. She always had the man she desired. Sometimes…sometimes she even had children. Sometimes that was the problem…Oh, he was getting off track.

The woman always had two men to choose between. A simple number, two. Grell had three and it was killing him. Usually, in the novels, one of the two loved her. Sometimes she was too blind to see it.

Grell wasn't blind, but he was far from certain. He could see where he wasn't wanted, and that made it easier most of the time, but, on dark nights when he was alone and suffering, that rejection was nothing more than painful. He knew that the gorgeous demon with his adolescent master had no interest in him at all. Not even enough to offer a kiss or an embrace…a hand holding session. Nothing.

But William…Will. That was the problem. Sometimes he was so cold that Grell could hardly stand it. Sometimes, however, he was unnaturally warm and charming. He, also, had never given Grell a kiss, but there had been more than one instance of an embrace that was returned and several more where they had been dodged. That had to mean something, right?

That uncertainty hurt as much as the rejection that night. It was hard being so energetic in public, it really was. It was how he felt, who he _was_, but no one else seemed to appreciate it. On most other occasions, Grell didn't care if they liked his behavior or not. But on nights when he was alone and no longer wished to be alone it was suffocating.

He found himself thinking that if he behaved better, if he held still, obeyed the rules, kept quieter, and acted less recklessly he wouldn't be so lonely. He'd have someone lying beside him on the bed that was certainly large enough to accommodate two people.

Grell pressed his eyes closed tightly as an onslaught of tears slid past his eyes. He raised a hand and pried off the fake lashes from both eyes and tossed them away. One landed on the bed and the other drifted onto the floor slowly. He shed his coat and tossed it away as well, along with his necktie which joined the felled lashes on the bedspread.

But there was _another_ man who seemed pleased with his behavior as it was. He laughed at what he said; he was impressed at what he was able to come up with. The Undertaker approved of him as he was, but the Undertaker had no tells which indicated any affection towards his fellow reaper. If Grell hugged him, he _sometimes_ hugged back. He always seemed to smile when the red reaper was around. Grell found himself capable of shifting his affections around.

When he was by himself at least.

Whenever he was around one of the three he was so certain that he loved that specific one. Sebastian, such a handsome, strong man capable of admiring the beauty of the world. He was rough and forceful, but Grell didn't have a problem with domination. However, Sebastian didn't seem to mind destroying what was beautiful…like Grell's precious face that he spent so much time preparing before going _anywhere._ _That_ Grell did not appreciate…but he could live with it if he was given the chance.

Will was cold, no—cool. He was cool. His eyes were so piercing and they seemed to stare right through him and into his very _being._ How could he resist those eyes? He could stare into them for hours, he'd done it before and Will had allowed it. Surely that confusing man had _some_ feeling for him. Like Sebastian, he was extremely dominating and forceful, but in a less violent way. If he called for Will, Will usually came. He didn't stay for long when he found out that Grell was just "lonely" or "bored", but he kept coming when he was called for regardless. He had to have some sort of a feeling for him. Something…maybe not love, maybe not a desire as strong as Grell's, but there had to be something…right? If Will would give him a chance, Grell was certain that he could extract that feeling and exercise it in a way that would prevent Will from regretting it.

Oh, but the Undertaker too. He was fun, he was lovely, he was nice in some strange way. They got along together. Undertaker seemed content with Grell's behavior. (He _assumed_ that since he worked around the dead all day it had to be a revitalizing change to have someone so good-looking and vivacious keeping him company.) Maybe if Undertaker would allow him to come closer something could happen between them. Or maybe his over-the-top emotions would drive him away and Grell would have sliced off the bud of what could have been a bush blossoming into friendship. But if he was aware enough of the atmosphere, Grell was certain that he would be able to adapt to Undertaker's needs…if he just got a chance.

One_ chance_. That's all he wanted from them all. All of them. Sebastian, Will, the Undertaker…a single chance to make them happy, to make himself happy for a while. To adapt himself to what they needed and live that way as their lover for as long as they wished. Until they tired of each other or someone better came along. He wasn't asking for lifelong commitment! Just someone to spend lonely nights like this one with. Someone to pass the time with, someone to make it so he didn't have to cry about things that only mattered after dark while he was unaccompanied.

Sometimes he thought that, maybe, if he had a child he'd be happier. He'd never have to be alone again. He'd have a baby to look after and then, after that, he'd have a toddler to talk to, then a child to converse with, then a teenager to teach life-lessons to. Then the child would be an adult and, maybe, the adult would find a lover and bring him grandchildren. And maybe they'd all just live in one house together. He'd never be alone and, frankly, a person like him wasn't suited to be alone. He looked too good too often to not be seen. (And nights alone were becoming crippling.)

He didn't bother changing out of his clothes to sleep. He slid beneath his covers, mostly dressed and with the light on, and nuzzled his pillow to rid his face of his tears. He decided that, the next day, he was going to make a move on someone…he didn't know which someone, but someone. And if the aftermath of what that single move caused turned out to produce a negative effect, Grell decided that he would just kidnap someone's unwanted baby. It wouldn't be his own, but it would do. And if that didn't work out he could just return the creature to its parents.

He chuckled at his own cleverness and clutched his pillow close. Sometimes, in his mind, it was Sebastian, sometimes Will, sometimes Undertaker, sometimes another gentleman he'd seen in the world, but that night it was Will. He was sure that if he ever managed to snare that man and they laid together in this fashion, Will would allow it and would hold him closer.

The thought comforted Grell enough so that he could consider sleep. He was alone, and he disliked it, but he was lulled to sleep by thoughts that, one day, he might have someone to lie beside. Just lie beside…he didn't need anything else. Closeness.

That was enough for him. It was all he needed. And maybe a kiss…yes, that as well.

And you really couldn't forget holding hands. It was important to him…sometimes. He could go without it, but he didn't see why he would have to. It didn't have to be in public incase the gentleman was shy.

He wondered if Will would be shy of things like that. He was cool, but that didn't mean that it was impossible for him to have a bashful side. The thought made Grell coo and hold the pillow tighter. To see Will flustered, that would be…

He fell asleep before he could think of the word, his tear-coated eyelashes mashed together, his chest unmoving. He looked oddly beautiful that way, but it could be said that he was beautiful all of the time. There was just something about the way his cheeks were flushed from crying that balanced him out. It wasn't the same red as his blushing…it was a colour of crimson all of its own.

He was pretties when he was in pain…at least that was what _he_ thought.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: The _he_ is a different _he_ than Grell. But who is _he?_ I just thought it would be entertaining to see Grell's conflicting thoughts about the various people he can be paired with. It relates so well to a real world scenario instead of those crappy romances. There is the lover he wants but is never going to be able to have, the annoying one that shows some interest sometimes and no interest other times, and then the one that would probably make a better friend but he finds himself romantically attracted to him anyway.

Poor Grell, it takes a lot of work to be pretty and happy. And before someone says something about OOC, Grell is entitled to be sad, is he not? No one is happy all the time.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	2. Counterproductive

Title: Counterproductive

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Will is mean…no, nice…no, no. I'm quite certain he is mean. Or is he nice? Oh, who knows? He's so confusing!

Chapter Number: #2

Author Note: Drawing in policies that make the world work…or fall apart if you happen to be Grell. It's okay, I'm sure they have adhesive in the office.

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He leaned against the wall outside of William's office door where he had been ten minutes previous with as many giddy thoughts in his mind as nervous ones. Now, however, the shaking in his legs and what could have been the pounding of a once stilled heart were from humiliation. The way Will had looked at him, the way he had talked to him…it was as if he'd expected Grell to know those things. And he guessed that he was supposed to, but they were such obstructive facts that he wasn't surprised that he failed to acknowledge them before.

They'd never been important before.

He hadn't been stupid about it; at least he didn't think that he had. He'd sauntered in, dressed as he always dressed and made-up as he was always made-up…with a few small adjustments to look that much better, and he let, with great effort, Will finish what he was working on before saying anything. It had been difficult. What was the point in waiting for what he had to say to leave him when Will was always boasting how he could multitask, work and listen too? It was hard, but he'd done it. But in the end it didn't matter anyway.

He _hadn't_ been _stupid_ about it. He didn't throw himself at Will's feet and declare some sort of love for him, describe in detail his loneliness and how he wanted Will to help make it go away, and he most certainly not dirty his face with theatric tears when he sensed that things were going to turn sour.

Maybe he should have? No, Grell was certain that it wouldn't have helped.

_He hadn't been stupid_ about it. He'd just sauntered in and, in one wording or another, asked Will "casually" if he was busy the next night. There was a restaurant…but then Will had to ask it. It started off as such a beautiful question. Those lovely eyes, vacant expression, no bitter tone…it was just as if it was a glorious question.

"What am I to you, Grell?" He shuddered unpleasantly just remembering it. Oh how happy he'd been for those two short seconds. Enough time for his eyes to light up and to stutter out William's name before the man caught on to where Grell's mind had been going and snuffed the idea immediately. "In our workplace, Grell."

How had he been so foolish then when he hadn't gone about the scenario stupidly before?

He declared, confused, that Will was his boss, because he was. And it all fell down the mountain after that, catching on every tree and stone all of the way to the bottom.

"There is a policy in this establishment that prohibits relationships between employees of different ranks to prevent benefits being given to unworthy employees and so on. You're my subordinate and, even if you have only the intentions of forcing me to eat at some restaurant for innocent purposes—" How cold his eyes had gotten at that moment. He read Grell like a book, leaving the "subordinate" feeling very exposed. "—it would not look good to our superiors."

Well what could he say to that? Will already knew what his intentions were and to lie to Will to cover them…it wouldn't work. Will would become displeased. But, damn it he had to say something! Just standing there staring in embarrassment and shock was so unbecoming! Speechless? No! Grell Sutcliff was _never_ rendered speechless!

It would probably be better if he had been.

"Ah, you'll just have to promote me then!" He declared with a wink and an overly toothy grin.

"That would be counterproductive," Will snapped instantly, going back to his paperwork ignoring Grell's seemingly permanent smile and flashy fidgeting. "It would be exceedingly noticeable if I were to promote _you_."

"Oh? And what does that mean!" Grell had boomed, his volume based more on his offense than theatrics.

"It means that you are the last person in this business worthy of a promotion." Those eyes were just cold, not cool, cold. They looked right into him, right down inside of him and froze everything. "There's even talk of having you removed instead of constantly _de_moting you."

Just remembering it made his scrape his teeth over his lower lip. He had to be gentle about it, otherwise he tended to bleed. He didn't feel like being gentle, but there were others walking by and he didn't want to look foolish.

Grell didn't remember what he had said as he left. He just remembered that it was flirtatious at the same time that it was innocent and that it was well-humored even though he felt sad.

He could feel his chest tightening, and welcomed it because it wasn't the pressure of tears between his eyes. It hurt more than being rejected by Sebastian. That demon had no attraction for him at all, never showed any signs of it, any hints of it. Will had shown affection before. He had! Grell was sure he hadn't imagined it. But Will loved his job. Will loved his job more than he could ever love a person.

_But I don't want love_, Grell insisted to himself. He wanted it, but he didn't have to have it. As long as someone was close, someone he cared about was close. He could be contented with that.

If Will felt anything for him, it would be hidden now. Showing interest was the fatal maneuver. It wasn't _allowed_. They weren't _allowed_ to be together because of some old-world status issue? It wasn't ancient Egypt! Grell wasn't a peasant and William was not the pharaoh!

He cursed himself harshly. Maybe if he'd been better he'd only be one rank below Will like before instead of…how many was it? One step up from the bottom? Well, how Will had said it he was half of a step away from being thrown out.

Grell's eyes shot open and the tightness ceased.

If he was thrown out…fired as it was…then they wouldn't be in the same establishment anymore. Maybe then…

But he didn't want to throw his job away for a small chance of being held in Will's arms on a night when loneliness was his noose and the bed was the low tree branch.

His spirits lowered again and he leaned his head back against the wall, letting his eyes close so that the pressure that was starting to build would subside. There were many sounds. Footsteps, doors, locks, snapping sounds, and voices. Rustling of paper, the swaying of clothes, scuffing of shoes, the sounds of papers being dropped and curses that followed it. Words of thanks to those who helped pick them up. More than one pair of people walking past and talking to each other. That was what he wanted more than anything. Someone to talk to while walking down the hallways to whatever room he needed in. No one talked to him, if anything they took a wide berth of him and clung to the opposite wall when they caught sight of him.

Was he really _that_ bad? So terrible in his job and his life that they were afraid to catch his poor skills and luck like a disease?

The thought made him whimper, but quietly enough that he could barely hear it over the small noises that surrounded him. The cry he emitted, however, when a hand grabbed at his shoulder was enough to make the other sounds disappear.

His eyes shot open and turned towards the offender coldly and then dropped them when even cooler eyes met his. This was what made it so painful.

"Quit looking like a beaten dog," Will said, retracting his hand and beginning to continue on his way. "_I'm_ not planning on removing you."

It was those things that made it hurt so badly. One moment he was so icily cold, and then the very next instant he was touching his shoulder and offering what could have been words of comfort. But those words had so many meanings.

Was that Will's way of saying "No, Grell. You're imagining things. I don't want you removed because I don't want you coming around asking me to dinner again without me having a legitimate reason to deny you"? Or was it his way of telling Grell that he cared about him enough that he didn't want him to end up jobless?

"Will!" Grell called. The man stopped walking looking stiff and unhappy. "Wait!" He rushed quickly to Will's side and began walking with him. "We could go for lunch, call it a business lunch. Discuss things I can do to keep my job." Will sighed heavily and Grell grinned madly in a way that made those around them swerve to get farther away from them.

"Fine," Will muttered. "Tomorrow though. And if you try _anything_ I'll see to it that you loose everything."

"What a mean thing to say," Grell replied with a smaller smile.

It was a good day when it came to its end. He had knowledge that, the next day, he would go to lunch with Will. He'd have to be on his best behavior, which would be hard when he was so excited, and he'd have to make sure he didn't say or do anything that Will's superiors would see as a good enough reason to have him removed from his position for getting too friendly with a subordinate.

He felt confident that he could.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Alls well that ends well, since Grell likes Shakespeare so much. (Or just likes to draw parallels to it.) So we meet Will, the confusing love who sometimes looks interested and other times just looks unfazed. I don't know, in my workplace you can't date supervisors or bosses or anything, but you can date those who work _with_ you. Thought I'd give that poor luck to Grell also.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	3. A Serious Deficiency of Red

Title: A Serious Deficiency of Red

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: A momentarily very sad Grell

Summary: Grell gets his lunch with Will, but is it more than he can handle? Pfft, no.

Chapter Number: #3

Author Note: Both sides of Grell pop up at once, one more focused on than the other. I can't tell if I've gone in too deep into his sad brain and got OOC, or if the ending salvages it. Please offer your thought.

Second Note: I am aware that the words I slammed together in the third sentence do not all mean the same thing and that, at points, they seem to have nothing to do with each other at all…but doesn't that just make them more haphazard?

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The night was passed…horribly. Simply and utterly _horribly_. What good was it to go out on a "not-date" with Will if the smallest little adjustment in their behaviors would signal to Will's bosses that they were a superior and subordinate inching closer to a forbidden, star-crossed, illicit, and unmanageable relationship? Grell could have easily spent the whole night daydreaming, oh yes he could! But that would be counterproductive.

How badly he wanted to wear something different than his normal attire the next day. Something new that would catch Will's eye…but if it caught Will's eye then it would catch William's bosses' eyes as well. That couldn't happen because then everything would be over.

He did not linger on the idea that one wrong move on his part could get them both into trouble. Instead, he dwelled on how wretched it was that he had to wear what he always did or something so atrocious that the bosses would just wonder what had gotten into him that made him abandon his previously gorgeous attire and wear such an awful, unflattering thing.

So, in between bouts of hollering, whooping, and fits of overjoyed tears, Grell had somehow managed to "piece together" an appropriate outfit that would call a great deal of attention without drawing any at all. No negative attention at least. When it came to Grell, he _always_ caught eyes.

Grell had never felt so conflicted before. He was so glad to be going with Will…but wearing such an atrocious, bland outfit…It could almost be said to be a disgrace.

"At first I didn't think you were being serious," William said _so_ wonderfully as he sat down at the table. He had refused to humor Grell with a walk there and had insisted that he just be given the name of the restaurant and its address. "For the first time with _you_, I'm pleasantly surprised." Grell might have exploded with joy and bounded about the restaurant, but he lacked the incentive.

They were in a human restaurant which didn't please Will in the slightest, but it pleased Grell even less since he had to dull out his hair and disguise his teeth. The food was good, so he didn't mind doing it when he was alone, but he was _trying_ to impress William! And how could he do that looking like some mangy, middle-upper class human? And only the faintest touches of red. A red tie and then, secretly, red socks.

But just because he didn't run about the restaurant cheering didn't mean that he didn't do it inwardly. Inside, the him inside his brain was slamming around like a feral rabbit.

"You actually obeyed the dress code for the first time since we employed you. To think I ever doubted that you wanted to keep your job." Grell grunted and looked stuffily down at the black suit jacket he had put on for the soul purpose of looking unappealing so he couldn't be mistaken for…identified for…attempting to seduce his superior.

"I _always_ obeyed the code…at least eighty percent of it." It was true. He wore the pants, the vest, and the shirt…and the gloves too, most of the time. He just didn't like normal ties like Will and the others wore. (He had assumed that Will hadn't seen his boots for he hadn't even thought to swap them out for a more "appropriate" pair.)

"Don't be cheeky," Will said with a smirk that lasted less than half of a second before inquiring about what was said to be worth eating. Grell answered him and spoke with him about it with only twenty percent of his consciousness. The rest of him was either cheering (because he was alone with Will, Will had voiced his approval of something that he had done, and because Will had asked his opinion of something), or writhing as he tried to uncover what had caused that smirk.

It was probably nothing. Just Grell's behavior surprising William in a way that made his lips curl because he had been so certain that Grell was going to make a scene. But Grell wanted it to be more than that. He wanted that small smile to be the sign of Will being as happy to be there with Grell as Grell was to be there with Will.

They had ordered, they had waited, and then they had eaten while discussing what steps Grell should take to secure his job. It stared off so blandly. Grell would have been close to scraping his eyes out with his spoon if it hadn't been Will that he was sitting with and being close too. He should show up on time more than just twice a week, he should stop playing games to attract attention and just do what he was ordered to do, obey the rules as well as he could…on and on and on.

He really hadn't known that he'd had so many problems. Attendance, yes…dress code, of course!…attention grabbing, fine, he'd accept that…but "being an overall nuisance and more of a liability than an assistance in the department", that wasn't right. Surly he wasn't so horrible that he had to be called a liability. (Nuisance didn't bother him. He knew he was one of those. It was better than being an obedient little slave.) If it hadn't been Will who had said it he'd think it was a lie.

Will didn't bother lying about things. He'd sooner not speak any on the subject if he wanted to avoid a topic. He wouldn't instill false hope by saying Grell was a good employee if he wasn't. If he called Grell a liability, then it was the truth. He was a burden to William. And if he was a burden, what would Will ever want with him?

Nothing.

"Don't take it to heart, Grell," Will had said, his eyes looking so cool. "You're not acting like yourself." Maybe it was true. Maybe he wasn't acting like normal, but he was so fed up. Loneliness. Going home by himself. Eating by himself. Sleeping alone. Living alone. Waking up _solo_. Walking to work _tout seul_. Walking down the hallway _da solo._ Talking to no one because no one talked to him. Leaving work _allein_. And he knew that if he made more mistakes he'd be even worse off. He'd sit at home, alone, for hours with no one to talk to because no one else was around until he lost that too and became nothing. Became nothing while by himself.

He remembered that, once in his life, which ever part of it, he'd shouted, at everyone around, to leave him be. To leave him alone.

He hadn't thought that he'd cursed himself to be alone for ever after that day.

Grell had to prevent that from happening. He had to cling to something. He had to behave better so that he couldn't loose his work and leave Will's side. Will spoke to him sometimes, humored him with a lunch to discuss ways to help him keep his work. Surly that meant that Will wanted him around still. Will didn't instill false hope. He wouldn't…It wasn't in his nature. If he wanted Grell gone, Grell would be gone. He had to care for him just a little.

"William," Grell had begun. Intending to ask a question. A meaningless question just to keep them there longer and to look more interested in everything that Will had been saying instead of arguing (as he had done previously) every negative trait attached to him. (He'd only done that for fun. It was cute seeing Will's eyes go cool every time he'd hear Grell dispute the accusations.)

He was going to ask a question, but he forgot what it was. His eyes that he had forcedly lit up in the theatrical way that he knew how, went slack and widened. How could he focus like this when, below the table, there was an index finger pressed against the top of his bent knee? It ran down him slowly and then disappeared two inches below his kneecap.

The touch stayed there, in his brain, and ate away every other thought. How was that fair? He'd worked so hard to behave, and he was glad to be touched, but to do so without him ever suspecting it and then to remove the warmness that had been in those eyes the instant that the touch vanished…those eyes just went cold, as if Grell had been the one to touch. As if he'd been the one who had broken their agreement to behave and act in a business-like manner. He was rewarded with the touch and punished for it with those eyes.

"We should get back to work," Will said, standing. "You'll pay, won't you? Since you insisted that I come?" Grell stood as well, bumping the table and nearly knocking his chair over backwards.

"Yes, of course." He could feel the blood as it ran to his face, and Will could see it as well. The way the pain had given way to an extremely intense blush that made up for the previous lack of crimson.

"Try to get to work on time," Will added as he walked off towards the exit, leaving Grell behind in a stew of agony as he tried desperately to contain himself until Will was gone, after which time he would most definitely explode.

He would have right away, but that was one of the things Will had warned him against. The others were beginning to become annoyed by his constant eruptions. Grell knew of no one except Will who had a problem with his joy. Will just liked quiet things, reserved and peaceful things.

So, after he was gone, Grell erupted into a volcano of sheer bliss, paid twice what he owed and ran off down the street cackling to himself and letting the redness consume his hair once again.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: So William finally showed some genuine interest and Grell forcedly contained himself. Maybe he won't be so lonely for much longer.

I tried to show both sides of Grell, but didn't spend a lot of time with the two of them arguing about what his flaws were. I think that, if you know Grell, you'd know what his basic protests would be. The "stop wearing heeled boots" and "but what's a lady supposed to wear" deal etc. etc. etc. This way, you can see the root of his troubles and then see them disappear! (For the time being.)

He will be happier more often in later chapters, though. Just so you know. I'm not doing an emo Grell.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	4. Prying Eyes

Title: Prying Eyes

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: mentions of sex

Summary: Grell thought he was alone with someone, but something makes him wonder if he really was.

Chapter Number: #4

Author Note: I like this chapter, then I don't, then I do, then I don't. Wrote it twice, and now I'm done. Enjoy, or don't. I'll do better next time. I just had to show that Grell still has options like I said in the first chapter. He just initiates one.

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"I saw you leaving with Joseph DeCosta yesterday," Will said to the red blur he occasionally caught out of the corner of his eye as it bounded around his office while he attempted to work. It froze in place and resembled a man who resembled a woman who resembled a rebellious employee that just couldn't bear to dress appropriately for the job assigned to it.

"Oh? I didn't know I was being spied on. But I should expect it! You just can't bear to take your eyes off of me, can you?" The seemingly gender confused creature bounded over to William's desk and claimed a seat on one of its corners and stared at him with an expression that looked like poorly portrayed seduction.

"It's nice to see you going after men of your status, but I have to say…you could do better." There was a shimmer in Will's eyes that had Grell ready to fall over backwards off of the desk and onto the floor in a swoon.

"Is that a fact?" Grell asked with a forced wink. How quickly Will's eyes turned from warm to cool. "Is that an offer?" Will made a noise like a snarl of disgust and looked back down at his desk, his face contorted.

"Or maybe you can't," Will said nonchalantly, his face still twisted. "Perhaps low-ranking whores belong with the office lechers." Grell went to slap him and had started to speak, but before his hand could reach Will's face and before the words could reach his tongue he had a bloody forearm, a bleeding nose, and a serious pain in the back of his head. "Watch your manners, Sutcliff."

"Just because we walked out the door together doesn't mean I took him home," Grell muttered with a bruised ego as he sat up.

"With you it does," Will rebuked, extracting a feisty hiss from redhead.

"You're just jealous that it wasn't you," Grell said, pursing his lips and reclaiming his seat on the edge of the desk.

"The thought makes me gag."

"Your behavior at the restaurant says different," Grell replied with a grin. He crossed his legs gracefully, extending the motions more than necessary to show off the length of his spider-like limbs.

"Which part? The part where I told you your hair was atrocious or when I told you that you eat with the table manners of a dog?" Grell sunk into himself and bitterly recollected the worst parts of their date, but not long enough for it to affect him anymore than through annoyance.

"You know, the part where you…" he paused to grin and watched as Will rolled his eyes. "…touched my leg _so_ sensually." He scooted closer to Will, but got shoved back onto the floor before his knee could bump against William's resting hand.

"There was a roach on your leg. I was brushing it off. What a disgusting restaurant that place was."

"Oh? You didn't complain while we were there!" Grell snarled, twisting around until he was back on his feet. The way he moved reminded Will of some sort of joint-less creature…like a snake but less menacing and more…like a worm. He wondered, if he cut the red shinigami in half, would he still live because he had multiple hearts in multiple places?

It was almost believable. What wasn't when it came to Grell? His entire existence was unnatural.

"Why do you think I made you pay?" Will barked. "Which makes me wonder—" Grell hated the seemingly angry look in William's eyes. What was he getting mad about? "—did Joseph make you pay or are your services free?"

"Will! That's just mean!" Grell glowered at him and pulled back from the desk with the same rage in his eyes that Will had. "How could you ask a _lady_ such a thing!"

"You're a _man_!" Will shouted. "Act like one!"

"I don't want to!" Grell shouted back with his teeth bared and his brow furrowed. "I don't have to!"

"Oh, that's right. Because Joseph DeCosta would rather be with the _lady_ he calls Sophia instead of a _man_." Grell fell quiet and let his glaring eyes do the talking. "I told you once," William said after several minutes, "You can do better."

Grell wanted to know how Will knew. How had he seen him leave with Joseph when they'd left at separate times, since they worked separate shifts, and how had he known about Josephs obsession with the faceless "Sophia"?

Come to think of it, Will knew a lot of things about Grell that Grell knew he kept as secrets. He appeared bubbly, ignorant, and carefree, but he had his secrets and he wasn't stupid. The best hidden objects were the ones in plain sight. The best ways to draw attention was to act as if you didn't want to draw attention. He knew things. But how did Will know things?

Sure, he'd gone home with Joseph DeCosta. It was just to relieve the stress of the night. He wanted company, he wanted release, and so did Joseph. They'd never even talked before that morning and _somehow_ it had turned into a sexy conversation and then they made plans to meet up and spend time together.

It was true, however, that the entire time Joseph had called for a woman named Sophia, but Grell didn't complain because he was dreaming of someone else as well, only he dared not call out his name. His loves belonged between himself and his affections…and those who happened to be around when the loves were around because, quite frankly, he couldn't control himself too well in the faces of lust and desire.

He usually didn't care what others said…but with Will it was different. He liked Will and thought Will liked him too. Sometimes it seemed that Will liked him, but other times it didn't. Or, like today, Will said things that made Grell wonder why he even liked him at all.

The low-ranking whore? Surly he wasn't that bad. He'd only been with three of the employees there, and once it had actually been serious. And the only way that "payment" existed between Joseph and him had been in time and breakfast. (Yes, he did give his guests breakfast. They were there, why not?) Joseph had stayed and had allowed Grell to sleep with his head on his shoulder. They were still in the same position when he awoke.

And what was Will implying with his "you can do better"? Was he offering himself? Then why get so mean about it? Or maybe he just _liked_ him…maybe in that disgusting brotherly way where he just wanted Grell to be happy and with someone worthwhile.

If there was anyone better available, it would be Will. No one else seemed to be jumping at the chance to go to lunch with him, and no one else allowed him to hover in their office the way Will did. (Not that he _tried_ to linger in other people's offices.)

That night Grell had his thoughts for company. They kept him occupied until he fell asleep, and then, when work came around, he'd managed to catch the eye of someone else and Will was almost completely forgotten about.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Will is a bit harsh, but is he loving? More or less both. Oh, but who has Grell's eye tomorrow?

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	5. A Fish, A Bird, and A Snake

Title: A Fish, A Bird, and A Snake

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: The word "erotic" is used…

Summary: Grell sees someone in the street, but is unable to save them from a giant fish.

Chapter Number: #5

Author Note: Everyone, please meet Grell Sutcliff as he behaves as himself…a weird, homosexual being…commonly mistaken for a piranha apparently.

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Sometimes people got lucky. Sometimes people lived their entire lives swimming in luck until, one day, it all goes away. Sometimes, however, people just get very very lucky. That day was one of those times, and Grell was one of those people.

He'd just been wandering the streets, meandering if it were, not paying the world much mind but gallivanting none the less. Sometimes people looked at him and then looked away when they noticed him staring back, but most often he was ignored. That was fine with him. When he was out wandering he didn't want stopped. He was enjoying himself in his daydreams and their words and stares distracted him from those dreams.

The only exemption from this anti-social wish was when Grell spotted someone he _wanted_ to talk with. Someone like…Sebas-chan.

Well that made everything different!

There he had been, wandering around, minding his own business and pondering, the way he was told he was not supposed to, over the soul he had chosen to reap when, out of the corner of his glamorized eye, he spotted a figure of black trudging past in the opposite direction. It wasn't unusual to see someone wearing a lot of black on a gloomy Londres street, but he had a special radar in his brain that told him quite plainly that there was something unusual about _that_ black-clad figure. So he looked closer and, sure enough, he'd spotted that handsome demon that masqueraded as a man—a gorgeous man at that. A lovely, lovely, fantastic, handsome, dominating _man_.

Grell found himself squirming and cooing with the very thought and was quick to stop himself before more people began looking. He pulled his poor-fitting red coat closer to him and trudged through a confused looking crowd and towards the street that he had seen Sebas-chan go down.

He began to follow the demon that walked with his master stealthily, even though he knew the other was aware of his presence. The longer he followed from behind, the longer it would take for Sebastian's patience to grow thin and shoo him away. (Not that shooing him would really work all that effectively.) Besides, wandering from behind had its own benefits…

And the luck just increased as they strolled. Soon, the annoying child that always bossed the clean-cut, patent-leather shining, glossy black butler around went into some unimportant shop and ordered the lovely servant to wait outside. This gave Grell enough time to pounce, but not too forcedly for he knew that Sebas-chan would either dodge him or punch him using his force against himself. He knew better, so he approached as casually as he could, simply _strolled _up and spoke a word of greetings…

In Sebastian's eyes, a red, transgender, serpent hybrid with absurdly pointy teeth was squirming its way towards him on legs that seemed to have been made of some unsteady and flexible piping with weak ball-joints. Its face was flushed and its teeth kept gnashing together as if the beast were attempting to chew on the air. The entire ordeal was quite frightening, but he wasn't cowardly enough to run away and, since the creature hadn't made any moves to attack, he refrained from striking at it—though he was close to grabbing a few scraps of wood from the gutter and smacking them together to see if it would help to keep the monster moving along.

And then, the ogre with the piranha's mouth and a face like an Angler fish spoke in a sexless voice the word "hello" followed by several words of nonsensical jargon involving love, longing, and something about oxygen.

Grell found himself to have done considerably well. He certainly had Sebas-chan's attention and had kept his cool perfectly. But, as expected, the gloomy demon didn't say anything in return, he just kept his lips pressed together and his face drooping.

"What? Not even a 'good morning' back?" Grell pressed, showing more of his teeth. "Such cruel treatment towards a lady."

The creature was still talking, Sebastian noted. Spouting its odd, genderless, confused words. The idea of grabbing the fragments of wood returned to him and he glanced at the garbage thoughtfully. A well deserved punch to the face, or even the threat of one, would be cleaner and less distracting. He'd encountered the beast before and it had never bitten him with its mouth, only some otherworldly device which it no longer carried. He guessed that, if the right reason arrived, he would punch it and send it on its way. Until then he didn't want to cause a scene.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. He hadn't tried that method before…he had a feeling it wouldn't work.

The creature attempted to say his name and began flailing around like a bird with a broken wing—it was no wonder, fish can't fly—and started cawing…or something. Not only was it gender confused, the poor brute didn't even know what its species was. He pitied it, so he finally spoke to it to make it stop and to maybe, just maybe, make it appear less revolting.

"Good morning," Sebastian said—and then gasped. Why, it wasn't a fish _or_ a bird! The damn thing was a snake! A boa constrictor or something similar. The proof was there, attempting to choke the life out of his arm. He had no choice, he had to hit it, even as it cried in its repulsive voice to avoid its face. The face was the only way to stop it! Its one weakness!

Maybe he could knock out a few of its fangs in the process so, if it decided to bite, it would be less detrimental.

"S-Sebas-chan," Grell whimpered, getting back up off of the dirty ground and clutching his bleeding nose lightly. He reached out his other hand towards the demon who struck it away with enough force to deter Grell from attempting it a second time.

He gathered himself, but just before he could pounce a second time, the small brat left the shop, spoke several quick words to the unfathomably beautiful butler (who was close to being, but not exactly, as pretty as himself) and then they were off, walking away again without even a glance back at him.

"Sebas-chan," Grell repeated to himself and the bustling walkway, lowering his hand from his bleeding nose. No, no. He was not going to be pummeled and thrown to the side! He was too lovely for that! Too powerful! He was second only to God as he was! He deserved respect!

Undeterred, Grell took pursuit and had almost caught up with them, but, at the very last second, it was as if they both just disappeared. The demon and his master vanished into thin air. He was certain of it. There was no carriage parked around this turn, no doorway, no sewer grate. Nothing.

He looked up at the grey sky and observed the roof. By the time he landed on it and was able to observe the surrounding roofs and streets, the butler and his master were gone. They could've been anywhere—inside, outside, above, below, or home in bed.

His spirits lowered, but not depressed in the slightest form, Grell carried himself back to his flat and removed his shoes before draping himself over his crimson couch. He had been smooth and had gotten a positive response from Sebastian—a word of greeting without any hostility. It was only when he touched the demon that he got his nose bloodied.

Didn't that bastard have any respect?

Oh, but he was simply playing hard to get, that tricky demon butler. He could only imagine where it would go from there. He'd gotten a greeting, the next thing was touch. Once he got that…then, soon, he could get the butler home. Steal him away from his overbearing master just for the night while the brat was asleep or something and then…oh _and then_…

There was something lovely about a man like Sebas-chan. That cold, rough, but still well-groomed type. He'd had one once…at least a decade previous or so…lasted less than a month before he'd had to chase the man off. He didn't particularly like having his face beaten, his eyes blackened, and his nose bloodied, but the colour red looked so well on him and if a little abuse was all it took to appear…he'd found it almost erotic at first, until it became too much. Having bruises that never seemed to heal that affected his beauty so much—no. He would not stand for it. But he didn't want to think about that…he just had to think about ways to pull Sebas-chan close enough to hold without becoming disfigured.

Maybe another day would come and he would be lucky again and would be able to entangle Sebas-chan in his arms, or have the dark butler encircle him…One day, that day would come…one day.

He squealed with delight and decided that the tension was good and that he would, simply, have to wait and stew in it.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I'm not sure about the boa constrictor, but the first angler fish was discovered in the late 1800s I'm sure of it. But poor Grell, being compared to a very ugly fish…I enjoyed showing Grell from Sebastian's point of view…it must've been a horrifying experience for him…

And don't expect a filler-arc about Grell's mystery man from a decade ago. It's irrelevant really. He won't be showing up, causing issues, or traumas. Grell is just fine…if acting like a psycho is deemed fine. Emotionally, he is undamaged…I think.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	6. Blackmail

Title: Blackmail

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Grell, at Will's request, visits Undertaker. Undertaker says a few choice words that leave Grell stunned silent. Now _that_ is very hard to do…

Chapter Number: #6

Author Note: Couldn't figure out a place to _flow_ to after the last chapter, so, I'll confess, I kinda just threw him somewhere for this one. Well, not even "kinda". I _did_ just throw Grell somewhere.

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Grell had been doing his job almost successfully since their talk, William had to admit. He didn't change his outfit, but that was definitely not expected at all, but he didn't horse around as much when he was on missions. With Grell actually behaving, the lack of available hands in London wasn't so prominent anymore.

He was pleased. Pleasantly surprised and very, very pleased.

But there was no way in hell he was telling Grell that.

"…this child and, as you know…" Rambling. The man was sitting on his desk again, like he owned it or as if it was made specifically for him to sit on, rambling. Talking, just talking talking talking. About nothing.

Flirting.

Will wasn't naïve about it.

Every now and then he'd cross his legs overdramatically, gracefully pull his hair over his shoulder and down his back or from his back over his other shoulder. He'd blink slowly, showing off those foolish fake lashes. Smile with those very unique teeth. How had he gotten those, Will wondered. And, if Grell was so vain about the way he looked that he had to wear fake lashes, why didn't he do something to hide those massive…fangs?

"I mean, why do we reap children anyway?" There it was, crossing his legs, stretching the top one out as far as it would go before pulling it back. "It's not like they lived long enough for anything interesting to have happened…it's all so boring. I have to judge this boy based on how he treated his pet dog—which was very atrocious might I add—"

"This is all _very _interesting, Grell," Will said, cutting the red shinigami off. "But would you mind doing me a favor?" William watched with amusement as the beautiful creature's green eyes went wide with attention.

He hadn't thought a favor would involve anything like this, but Grell had an inability to say no, really, when it came to handsome men. Even if that physical beauty wasn't as apparent or eye-catching to anyone other than himself. Grell believed that everyone was entitled to have their own personal tastes. So, when he obeyed William's request he was so surprised that, in combination with being asked at all, he'd been asked to come _here_ that he'd actually forgot what it was that he had come for.

That might've been how he'd ended up in a coffin.

Oh that Undertaker, such a tricky tricky guy.

"So…" the nameless undertaker so called "Undertaker" began, drawing out his words in what could have been a seductive way. "Is it comfortable? Comfortable enough for the dead?" Grell assumed that the only place Undertaker wanted to seduce anyone would be to an early grave—and he would, hopefully, never find himself in one.

"Would it matter?" Grell asked, sitting up. The only reason he'd agreed to get in, aside the fact that a man with pretty eyes had asked, was because the cushioning inside was trimmed with red velvet that matched his tastes so well. "The only person who should ever be in it has long since past the point of identifying comfort."

"Oh? Don't be like that. There's always the chance that he or she may be…buried alive." He grinned almost as toothily as Grell. The smile said that it was not at all a possibility if the person came through his doors. If they were alive, he'd probably make them dead…but was he really that mean?...maybe he was just insane. Reaping could do that to some.

"I don't think anyone waking up inside any coffin, even if it is comfortable—" Grell could not deny the fact that it was quite soft inside. "—would stop to think about whether or not their comfortable in a premature grave." Undertaker chuckled and shuffled over to a cabinet across the dank room where he clanged a few bottles together but did nothing else with them.

"If you're here just to mock my work," Undertaker cooed, his voice sounding both ominous and completely kind and friendly in the same moment, "why did that stiff William send you?" Grell felt his face constrict and turn red, his mouth virtually disappearing between his careful teeth. "Oh?" Undertaker's lips stretched to reveal every angle of his teeth from ear to ear. The grin fell away into a second bout of quiet chuckles. "So…? Don't you remember?" His laughing resumed without hesitation.

"It's a long trip!" Grell defended, pulling his lips free from the depths of his mouth. "It slipped my mind on the way." Undertaker made a curious little grumble before smirking.

"Slipped before you even left…while staring at that pious William T. Spears." Grell had started to protest, but it was lost in Undertaker's shrill laughter that carried on loud enough to bring the corpse in the back room back to life. By the time he'd recovered, most of Grell's crimson rage had dissipated. "It's the whisper of the underworld you know?" Undertaker prodded as he wiped a tear from beneath his bangs swiftly. "It's whispered so quietly that William can't even hear." Grell blushed lightly. Even if those eyes were hidden, their jesting could still be felt along his spine.

Undertaker slid from the counter he had used to keep himself propped up as he died from his own comment to where Grell stood beside the too-comfortable coffin. His lips were curled into a wide smirk and long-nailed hands pressed together at the pale fingertips at level with their owner's sternum. They rested like that for merely two steps before sliding beneath his long sleeves.

"Nights alone, nights to cry…threats of unemployment, secret lunch dates, secret _touches _under tables, secret lovers to pass the time…almost like a human…" His grin kept getting larger and Grell kept feeling smaller and smaller.

Grell, too surprised and horrified with the thought of someone spying on him in his most intimate moments, fell quiet. By the time he'd mustered the gall to speak, Undertaker read his thoughts and answered them.

"I hear things," he said, chuckling. "Sometimes," he started, turning sharply around and moving back towards the counter where he ducked and disappeared behind it. "I think to myself about just _how_ snobby William would react to knowing that everyone knows everything…" He popped back up with a cookie that was shaped like a bone. He seemed to be attempting to use it to mock Grell with…as if he assumed that Grell wanted to eat the thing that had been resting back there for however long it had. "Or how he would react to seeing the—" he paused to chuckle. "—erratic _you_ completely broken and _lonely_." He chuckled loudly and bit off the top half of the treat. "I think of it and I laugh, and I laugh a Grade A Laugh."

"Who tells you such personal things about me?" Grell barked, making Undertaker snicker to himself. "Who do you have spying on me!" He was certainly covering all of his windows when he returned to his flat. Even the one in the spare closet he never needed and never really opened.

"Though you are quite entrancing when you're pained," Undertaker said with a hack that could have been the aftertaste of a laugh. "More so than when you're daydreaming about and lusting over that prude William. To think, if that was relayed to him he'd run away from you like a deserting soldier—haha—and he'd never look back."

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: The end isn't as abrupt as it looks if you remember the last bits of the first chapter. (Undertaker is revealed to be the "him"…oooo) I apologize for the wait, but my eczema decided to flare and it makes moving my hands unbearably itchy and burny and awful. That and I was virtually uninspired about where to go exactly after the last chapter, but now I found my flow again.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	7. Bland

Title: Bland

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Grell arrives at Undertaker's early. Oh, the trouble it causes.

Chapter Number: #7

Author Note: I found my solution to the unbearable, hearing-damaging sounds that my desktop computer makes in the severe heat…sound canceling headphones. Ain't no stopping me now…and I won't lose any more of my hearing in the process of working.

Now my keyboard will probably die because I can't stand typing without hearing the sound of the keys so I have to hit them very very hard. Poor keyboard…

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It would be a lie to say that Grell was not sulking as he walked down the rain dampened street towards Undertaker's dreary shop. It wasn't that he didn't like visiting with the man whose eyes were truly quite lovely—framed with such elegantly long lashes that—no, no, no…he was still brooding. (Honestly, he really did get distracted too easily and today he was in no mood to be swayed because he was _moping_.) He enjoyed visiting the secretly handsome creature, but not when he was _forced_ to.

Well, he wasn't really being _forced_ to. No one could truly make him do something because he had the ability, and he knew it, to irritate whoever requested something of him by feigning incompetence or any other turn off that would have the job passed on to someone else. He guessed that, if he was going to Undertaker's, he had to be going willingly and therefore had no reason to sulk.

The realization made him even gloomier.

He finally made it to the dreary front door of the Undertaker's shop and entered without knocking. He was early, but Grell assumed that being early was better than being late. (Not only did it show character, it also made it so whoever was around could look at him just _that_ much longer.) He hadn't expected, however, to have to stand around in the back corner for the extra forty five minutes while Undertaker spoke in his eerie little voice to a mourning couple seeking a child's coffin.

The woman, seemingly disturbed by Undertaker's bizarre appearance, horrendous sense of humor, and negatively charismatic nature, attempted—and failed—to hurry the session along. After making a statement of the most abhorrent nature, however, the session abruptly ended after the woman fell into uncontrollable tears.

The couple left without making a decision, but the undertaker was far from disconcerted.

"As long as people die," he said with a twisted grin, turning his attention to Grell. "I shall never loose a sale. No one dares to compete with me." It was true—Undertaker was the only undertaker in London. "They'll come back…or, the man will at least. That woman is borderline insane with no sense of humor at all."

And then the grin turned immediately sour.

"You were early. You ruined my sale." Grell choked as he tried to speak to defend himself against the random accusation. "I don't take that lightly."

"Don't blame me!" Grell barked, fluttering his lashes irritably. "Just tell me what you want me here for so I can go before I 'make' you lose anymore business." Undertaker made a sound like a submissive groan and then gestured for Grell to follow him into the curtain covered backroom from which wafted the bitter scents of numerous potent chemicals. Grell couldn't help but shiver with disgust as he pushed the curtain aside and drifted into the spacious but cluttered storage area. Those scents, he just knew, were infecting his clothes—his favorite jacket, his best shirt—and that those awful odors would never, ever wash out.

"Come, right up this way," Undertaker said with a bizarre chuckle as he batted away two heavy curtains with a sleeve-covered arm and began ascending the stairs of the staircase hidden behind the dark drapery slowly. His movements almost reminded Grell of an old man about to collapse onto his death bed. It had to have something to do with the undertaker's strange garb. Grell just knew it.

Hurriedly, Grell followed Undertaker out of the foul back room and into the fresher smelling corridor where a breeze stirred the air from an open window that looked upon a dreary back alley. Undertaker disappeared into one of the three rooms that branched off of the narrow space and Grell, cautiously, followed after him, making sure to scan the surroundings of the doorway before going inside lest his creepy host decided to drop something upon his head as he entered. (It had happened before in other place with other people. It was best to be cautious.)

Once recognizing the room to be safe, Grell slid into the room—a sitting room with expectedly drab furniture a couch, two chairs, a dark table, a threadbare rug on which les chaises and couch rested, as well as a large shelf which Undertaker occupied himself with.

"Have a seat," the man uttered through a chocked laugh, as if recovering from an intense joke. Grell, being no fool, took the seat closest to the door in case, if the undertaker decided that he was done with games and just wanted fun, Grell could make a run for it and leap, heroically, from the window in the corridor and onto the neighboring roof.

While caught up in a daydream of Undertaker attempting to follow him and becoming tangled in his long coat and falling from the window to the ground, Undertaker had managed to leave the room and return with two cups of tea and a small black cauldron with the ends of bone shaped cookies sticking out of the top which he placed on the table that rested in the center of the table which was the epicenter of the furniture in the room—all of this completed without Grell even taking notice.

"Take a drink," Undertaker stated harshly, calling Grell's attention. The redhead's eyes widened with embarrassed horror before coming to rest on the table and the nourishments.

"I'm picking which cup I take first!" Grell declared as Undertaker, pleased after finally gaining his guest's attention and having sat down on the couch which faced the chair, reached for a cup. Frowning, the colourless reaper pulled his hand away and watched as Grell snatched the cup that had been closest to the undertaker and take from it a small sip. "You're not poisoning me!" Undertaker grabbed the remaining cup and took from it half of a sip before Grell grabbed that one from his hand and forced the other upon him. "I changed my mind."

If his eyes had been showing, Grell would have seen Undertaker's confusion beyond his drooping face. Taking the red shinigami's behavior as nothing more than one of his indecisive antics, Undertaker took a cautious drink from his cup after watching Grell carefully—almost _too_ carefully—finally allowed himself a sip. Undertaker expected, at any minute, the awkward red creature to toss its flailing tentacles at him again and, when it did, Undertaker was prepared to punch him.

After several minutes of silence, Undertaker reached forward once more to grab one of the cookies and was able to snag one without being attacked. He set the cookie into his cup and allowed it to remain there for several seconds before nudging the cauldron towards Grell who looked at it suspiciously.

Having no nearly flavorless tea left to dunk the treat in as Undertaker had done, Grell ate the bland cookie dry. Even though the food had no true taste of which to speak, Grell found the things to be oddly addicting. Before he realized it, they were all gone and Undertaker was frowning at him like a child refused access to candy.

Like he was pouting.

"S-Sorry," Grell stuttered, discomfited. Undertaker made no reply and Grell couldn't tell if the man was staring at him, the empty bowl on the table, or the empty cup of tea in his own hands.

"Well you're never going to get anyone if you go about things like that," Undertaker declared after several uncomfortably long seconds.

"Why did you even make me come here?" Grell inquired angrily. Undertaker's pout dropped into an elongated frown of confusion.

"I told you once," he replied dryly, definitely looking down at his empty cup.

"You did no such thing," Grell stated, scrunching his lips together tightly, making his mouth nothing more than a small dot.

"I did. I told you that you will join me for lunch at _one_."

"You never said that!" Grell defended. "You said 'be here at one—gu fu fufu', not to eat lunch!"

"I did!" Undertaker shouted. "I said 'be here at one, we'll have some lunch'."

"No—"

"Well you'll never get anyone if you go about things like that," Undertaker repeated, making Grell groan is exasperation and recline heavily against the back of the chair as if he'd been stabbed through the chest.

"Why did you ask me to come here 'for lunch'?" Grell asked, not altering his position except for to make air-quotes.

"Because I never get any visitors," Undertaker said matter-of-factly. "It's always 'Undertaker, tell me what you've heard!', 'Undertaker, tell us what you know!', never 'Undertaker, how have you been?", 'Undertaker, may I have a cup of tea to pass the time?'"

"Oh," Grell said, pulling himself back into a normal sitting position. "Well, that's probably due to the fact that you're a pushy, creepy, _undertaker_!"

"At least my hair is not the colour of conjunctivitis," Undertaker barked, turning his head away and looking at the door. Grell wasn't exactly certain of what he was to say to that, but, understanding that he had been insulted, stood to leave. "Sit _down_," Undertaker ordered.

Grell obeyed haplessly and stared up at the ceiling with his mouth tightly closed because he had run out of things to say…

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I guess even Undertaker gets lonely…and is, apparently, not good at giving anything a touch of flavor.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	8. Helpful

Title: Helpful

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Grell attempted to help Undertaker…but, can Grell really help anyone?

Chapter Number: #8

Author Note: I apologize for the wait. I went camping, got a serious sunburn, got clean, met with a friend, had one of my classes cancelled due to lack of enrollment, cleaned house, got a new job…got back here.

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As Grell wandered out the front door of Undertaker's shop, not needing to bound out of the corridor window and onto the neighboring roof, something dark on the horizon captured his well-groomed eye. Oh, that figure. He knew _that_ figure…that one not-so-human human being attached to that miraculous demon. Why—the two of them were always together out on the streets, it wasn't cruel to state that the two of them may as well be considered one person.

"Sebas-chan?" Grell stated to himself in surprise. Why was he and that Phantomhive coming to Undertaker's shop again so soon? The look they gave Grell when they spotted him in the doorway proved that they weren't just walking by.

"Grell?" The strange child barked as they came to a halt before him. "What business have you here?" Grell fluttered his lashes, many thoughts in his mind as he looked from the child to the always handsome demon and then back to the child.

"What business have _you_ here?" Grell asked obstinately, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking through his attempt at a firm face.

"Sebastian and I have business with Undertaker that doesn't concern you," Ciel stated bluntly. Sebastian leaned down and whispered something into his master's ear—the question was responded to negatively and Sebastian straightened himself.

"Oh?" Grell asked, pulling on a falsely curious face while truly thinking about other things. (He surprised himself! He was able to stay focused on something other than Sebas-chan when Sebas-chan was nearby!)

"The information we were able to receive from Undertaker was completely unreliable and so mangled that we've come to believe he tampered with it." All Grell could picture in response to that—even as Sebastian began to speak…Sebas-chan!—was Undertaker sitting on a dreary couch in dreary colours eating bland cookies and drinking tasteless tea. He could still hear the colourless creature talking—"Undertaker, tell us what you know!"

"I had the same problem," Grell finally said. "But Undertaker isn't even here."

"Then why is his door open?" The young Phantomhive asked irritably.

"Because he coerced me into keeping shop while he went away on a—a 'fabric hunt' I believe he said, for his newest casket." Noting Sebastian and Ciel's non-believing faces, Grell added on: "Which he said to tell you, if you dropped by, could be your own custom made—"

"When is he coming back?" Ciel demanded with the same apathetic expression he always had. Grell responded, after pretending to do lengthy calculations in his brain, stating random cities which he knew to be far away, that it would be at least four days.

"You're keeping shop for four days?" Sebastian asked. "Looking like that?" Grell examined his own dress—his usual dress—and shrugged.

"It's not like Undertaker is exactly inconspicuous," Grell muttered. Sebastian blinked lazily and glanced down at his master who looked like he needed a nap. "But if you think it's a problem, Sebas-chan, why not let me borrow your clothes?"

"No," Sebastian answered coldly, making Grell shiver from anything but discomfort.

"We'll return in exactly four days," the earl said vacantly. "Come, Sebastian." Without a single parting word, the two continued down the street like one person instead of two. Even lovers didn't have that kind of appearance.

"I want to be like that," Grell whimpered, turning to reenter the shop. Before he could even take a single step forward, however, the half-concealed but still displeased face of the undertaker met with his.

"What was that?" Undertaker asked, his voice sounding gruff and unfriendly.

"That was…I-I know you don't like being bothered so I sent them on their wa—"

"On their way? Now if they catch word that I'm still here you've turned me into a liar which, as it appears, they already think I am. You've soiled not only a sale today, but also my reputation with the Earl Phantomhive." With an audible groan, Undertaker spun around and retreated to the back side of his counter on which he leaned and visibly sulked. "Not only that," he said with a heavy sigh. "You robbed me of what could have been the best laugh ever…"

"I was—"

"No," Undertaker interjected. "You can go."

"But I—!"

"No," Undertaker said, leaning over the counter with his giant sleeves hanging over the edge. "Just leave me." He, as Grell believed, pretended to die after that. He laid his face down on the counter and made no more noises or movements.

With a sigh, Grell left the shop slumped over and displeased…

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I enjoy Undertaker

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	9. A Little Bit

Title: A Little Bit

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: For Will's sake, let's pretend it matters.

Chapter Number: #9

Author Note: One excuse: My job is more demanding then I thought... Pharmaceutical Assistants' assistants don't have it easy I have come to understand.

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Grell returned to work late, but just a little bit. Maybe half a minute or so, but to Will that was the same as an hour. Grell was aware of that, but he didn't care much—his focus had wavered a bit, just a little bit, after meeting up with Undertaker. First he'd seen Undertaker, then Sebas-chan! It had been a marvelous day—but draining. It wasn't his fault that he overslept…maybe he would have been exactly on time if he had neglected to put on his red coat?

Giving the sleeve of the too-small coat an experimental tug, lowering it farther down his arms and exposing more of the white sleeve beneath, he groaned and pulled it higher. No, there was no way he could go on without it! He hadn't had it before, but man hadn't had clothes before and you don't see half-naked people walking around just because, long ago, the only fabrics were animal skins which were in short supply…that's how it was, right? Grell didn't really remember and didn't really care…

He hadn't had the coat before and now he did and he couldn't live without it so there. The only alternative was to grow his hair out longer and braid it up into some sort of makeshift, woven shirt collar—no, that was just silly…

So, being late, Grell did his best to blend in, walked down the hallway at a casual but still hurried pace, trying hard to dodge in between people to hide himself from Will and the other superiors…the only trouble was, people still avoided Grell as if he had the Red Plague…If he'd been in more of a mood to stand out, Grell felt he might cry about the way the other reapers fanned away from him as he neared.

But that would draw more attention so he just tried to walk casually…

The way the Will saw it, however, there was a blatantly late, glaringly red, squirming little person trying to creep down the hall…very conspicuously. He wasn't really that late…not enough to even catch Will's attention typically though he was rumored to be very vicious about any form of lateness—and he didn't know why. The only time he'd ever yelled at and/or removed someone from his position for being just barely late, it was because there was a mass of other offenses before that that weren't severe enough to make him lose his post but still so utterly annoying…Being late was an excuse to fire that person who had caused so many other problems—wait.

Grell had caused a lot of other problems.

Oh well, what _that_ reaper got, he brought on himself.

Will walked along the side wall at a quicker pace than the few others who were in transit—including Grell who was worming his way around the people who really were bolting away from him as if he were infectious. It wasn't very kind, Will found himself thinking. Sure, Grell Sutcliffe was very strange, overtly red, and more than a bit confused as to what gender he was, but he wasn't so bad that it was acceptable to fling yourself away from him when all he wanted to do was walk down the hall. His lack of skills wasn't contagious either…The sight left a bruise on Will's heart, but he ignored it like he did the rest and kept walking until, finally, the red shinigami accidentally made eye contact with him.

Grell had a problem with breaking eye contact with people staring him in the eye. Will used that to his advantage, but he hadn't expected the fool to keep walking…walking straight into the man in front of him. The man reacted, turning to yell at Grell who had finally turned away from Will after the surprise of the collision. Grell looked like he was preparing to melt into the floor when words finally starting ripping out of the abnormally enraged man's throat and Will, who usually would have allowed such things to go unchecked, found himself annoyed.

He approached the scene, grabbed Grell by the shoulder and forced him to back a few steps away from the man who grew larger and larger as well as redder in the face with his unconventional rage, and stood between the two. As expected, the man immediately stopped, his complexion went clear, and he became very peaceable.

"I'll take it from here," was all Will had to say for the man to pass one last smirk at the reaper he assumed was going to be gone for good and walk off. Will however, waited until he was gone before idly motioning for Grell to follow him to his office.

"Will," Grell stated, sounding so meek and feeble that the bruise on William's heart twitched. It didn't become overpowering because, after the mention of his name, Grell ran out of words.

Probably on purpose…Grell was very theatrical.

"I don't care that you're late, but for my image's sake, let's pretend that I do," William said casually. It was almost sickening how quickly his face went from dreary to ecstatic.

Will closed his office door and stepped over to his desk where he grabbed a pen and piece of paper and jotted something down before folding the parchment and handing it to Grell casually. When the red shinigami went to unfold it, Will motioned for him to put it away so Grell slid it into the inner pocket of his red coat that may or may not have been the reason for his lateness.

"I'm busy now, so we'll discuss the issues you've caused later." Will's eyes met with Grell's firmly and then dropped to the concealed pocket. "Now you may go." Grell blinked a few time and then looked back towards the door. He was very very tempted to ask William if he was trying to get him on another date, but withheld the words with great effort.

"Okay, Will!" He chirped cheerfully instead. "I'll see you later then!" He backed out of the room after throwing open the door and swayed into the hall. He didn't bother to close the door again and Will was able to watch as the unusual man squirmed down the hallway muttering excitedly to himself.

Grell was simple, Will thought. It didn't take much to make him happy. Just a little bit of special treatment…just a _little_ bit.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Next chapter will be Will and Grell centric. Hopefully will not take so long to write?

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland


	10. Consciousness' Limbo

Title: Consciousness' Limbo

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: *cough* I have strayed *cough*

Summary: Date No. 2. Let's try this again.

Chapter Number: #10

Author Note: Another excuse: I am now a single parent working minimum wage and going to college…It's just that the baby is a squirrel.

Will is a little…to-the-point in this chapter, but I didn't want to spend three pages writing out dialogue and jargon so I abridged it to "straight to the point".

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Will was coming over! He was coming over! Grell darted around his flat, shoving clutter out of view, straightening things, cleaning excessively, and trying (really really trying) to bring out any décor he possessed that wasn't red. Oh, Will hated red, but this was _Grell's_ house and _Grell's_ sanctuary. Of course it was going to be red! So red that it made apples look white! So red that blood looked blue! So red that—oh hell, he's early!

Grell bounded over to the door, cursing the fact that he hadn't had time to rethink his dress and was still trapped in his main work outfit—but he had thrown off Madame Red's red coat. (He sort of felt naked without it.) He swayed over to the door and called out (as if he didn't already know) an inquiry of who was outside. As expected, Will said nothing—William never played along. He always had to spoil the fun.

Defeated, Grell opened the door, but maintained his smile even though Will only looked over him coldly. Oh, Will had such lovely eyes.

"I hope you didn't waste time making something to eat," Will said, barging in without the slightest bit of reserve or elegance—to Grell, his lack of elegance _was_ elegance. In regards to the food, however, the thought hadn't even crossed Grell's giddy mind. He hoped Will was being honest. "All of this red…it's unsettling." Grell pouted slightly (which, in terms of Grell, meant he pouted quite more than a little) and closed the door behind William soundlessly. "But for a creature like you, I guess this is what I should have expected."

"Oh?" Grell moaned. "What do you mean by a creature like me?" Grell sulked and moved over to his couch which he had draped with a very deep mauve curtain to disguise the bright crimson upholstery.

"You know what I mean," Will said, stepping behind Grell as the red shinigami attempted to direct his attention to the black curtains. Feeling his closeness, Grell stiffened externally and melted inside. Having William so close was comforting and exhilarating, but at the same time nerve-wracking. Will was so cool that he froze everything he touched—Grell was so red with the flames of passion that his core remained ablaze despite the chill. Despite that, Grell could still feel himself icing over and then was overcome by the sensation of his own zeal and heat melting away that ice. "A harlot like you." Grell was about to call out an insult back—or at least protest a little bit and in a "sophisticated" manner—but at that moment William wrapped his arms around Grell's waist and pulled him back against himself. Grell's mild agitation vanished immediately and he allowed himself to lean back against Will's cold and stiff touch. The man was like a statue of ice—cold, rigid, frozen. The contrast to his own ignited mannerisms made Grell shudder pleasantly.

"Will," Grell stammered uneasily. He tentatively reached back and placed his hand on the back of Will's head—just to feel his hair—and twisted his neck so he could look at Will's audaciously cool eyes. With even more caution—hardly believing that this was actually happening, that Will was willingly so close and touching him of his own free will—Grell attempted to press his lips to Will's and nearly died when Will closed the distance and began kissing back.

Oh! His life was flashing before his eyes! It was so beautifully red—blood, carnage, gore, men, women, children, red, red, crimson, red, red, violet, red, scarlet, crimson, burgundy, red, crimson, red, cherry, red-violet, red wine, red roses, red shoes, red blue, ruby red, red William dressed in red—oh, lovely, sexy, passionate, scarlet, crimson, ruby, red! Grell moaned despite himself and stumbled further back into William's arms. The other chortled coldly and released his hold on Grell's waist to pull his head free of Grell's hand. He smirked to himself as he spun the red reaper around and forced their bodies to touch once more as he grabbed Grell by the hips and pulled him close.

"Will," Grell stammered again, his eyes becoming lidded—he looked like he was about to faint. He raised his shaking hands and placed them on each of Will's cheeks gently the way a distant aunt would after seeing her nephew after years apart. He even had a similar sort of look on his face, but the blush and the green lust in eyes showed a great variation between the interests of an aunt towards her nephew—Grell looked like a woman happy to see her lover back from months on the sea.

That was fine, Will could role-play.

"Where's your room?" he mumbled into Grell's ear, following the statement up with a puff that made the other's knees collapse and Will was left holding Grell up. It was a moment before Grell had gathered himself once again and was able to walk to lead Will into the shadow-black room.

Grell, becoming less damsel-swooning and more back-alley lover, wasted no time pulling Will towards the spacious bed with its heavy red (though barely maroon over black in the shadows) blankets and pillows. He fell back onto it, sitting and reclining at the same time. He crawled backwards slowly, his lips constantly pressing themselves and removing themselves from Will's as the cold one moved farther and farther onto the bed between Grell's widely open legs.

"Will," Grell moaned, shedding himself readily of his vest, ribbon, and shirt in several fast but graceful motions. Will shushed him and then traced his right hand down Grell's bare throat and chest. "Will," Grell whimpered almost desperately as the cold man stroked him through his still closed trousers.

"Hush," Will said, locking his eyes with Grell's firmly. Grell felt himself stiffen—that look reminded him of work and getting yelled at. He allowed himself a moment to pout before tripping and falling face first into euphoria as his pants were undone and Will's nearly uncomfortably chilled hand brushed against his bare flesh.

Grell unconsciously reached for William's tie, but had his hand struck away which made him shudder with pleasure rather than disappointment—William, it was so like him to want to look his best under any circumstance. Oh, it was fantastic—the only part that he would ever see of that always-hidden flesh would be his—ooh…

He couldn't suppress the moan any more than Will could repress his quiet laugh.

William wasted no time speeding things up before Grell could stutter out his name once again—something about that vaguely effeminate name was worse than the red that was encircling him. He stripped Grell of his shoes and socks, his pants and undergarments—it wasn't hard, Grell was more than willing to comply, the vixen. Even though Will never even considered removing any of his clothing and readied himself to thrust in between the red ones legs without any preparation at all, Grell did not show any hesitation and spoke not a word and made not a sound of protest.

But that didn't mean that he was quiet—Grell had an inability to keep his mouth shut at the most low-key and boring of times. Why would sex be any different?

Even with the lack of preparation, he didn't bleed, didn't tear—he was definitely what was said about him. An easy, loose, gender-confused reaper. That was alright, Will was fine with that.

Grell moaned loudly, using one hand to pull Will closer and the other to stroke out a lock of his long hair to display its length across the bed. It was impossible to see in the dark, but it was a lovely display—he had to. It set the mood. He could see himself, he could see Will moving over top of him and pushing into him. It was beautiful, they were beautiful. To make the painting better, Grell wrapped his legs around Will's hips delicately, with pointing toes—only his ankles crossing and very, very slightly.

He was unable to stifle his shrieking moan—it wasn't just the pleasure and the lust, it was the feeling. Will was here, someone he cared a great deal about was here, in his bed, in his room, loving him, touching him, kissing him so passionately. Sure, Will's hand had long since left his groin, but Grell didn't need that sort of touch to stay aroused. Everything about the situation was exciting. Will, the bed, the crimson, the softness, the terrible sting—Will! His name was like a prayer! Or a chant. Will, yes, Oh, Will! Will!

Will never said his name, but that was alright, he was moaning too, he was panting, he was so caught up that he couldn't form words! Poor Will! He had to have so much to say! He wasn't like the pillow that Grell sometimes pretended was Will—he was alive. He was alive and so fantastic that Grell couldn't—ah, he couldn't…keep up…

The euphoria lasted all of sixteen minutes (thirteen for Grell who spent the rest of the time writhing in consciousness' limbo) and then there was the sensation of being filled in body, mind, and soul and then all together empty when Will pulled out.

He didn't even say anything, he just pulled out, looked at himself, and then redid the buttons of his pants. He stood up from the bed, straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair until he was sure it was flat again, rearranged his glasses and then looked Grell over skeptically. The other felt the blood drain rapidly from his face as his previously smiling mouth drooped.

"W-Will?" Grell stared at him, feeling suddenly self-conscious and pulling the blanket up to cover himself. Those cool eyes…those cold eyes. He could look into them for hours and William had allowed him too before, but tonight, Grell could plainly see, Will wasn't looking away, but Grell wasn't invited to stare.

What was that look? So cold, so brutal. It lacked everything that the past moments had had. What had happened? What had gone wrong? He understood William fixing his appearance—Grell, too, loved looking his best all of the time, but why not say something? Even "hey, you're better than I thought" or something…not silence. Not _that_ silence…the silence of an uncertain one-night stand that didn't know if he should sleep over or get going. No, Will wasn't keeping that kind of silence…right?

Right?

Oh, God.

Grell inhaled sharply and he felt his jaw quiver.

It wasn't that kind of silence, it was worse. This silence was Will saying "I'm leaving now. Get it?" Grell got it, but…this was his one chance. He had to try to stop it! Right?

"Will, you can stay…if you want to." He was unable to keep the trepidation out of his words.

"No. I'm not staying. I'll see you at work in the morning." Grell grit his teeth and Will just blinked.

"William!" Grell called. "You can't just leave!" Will didn't even answer. He raised his brow, turned, and started walking out. Grell, in a hurry, got up to follow him, but his legs tangled in the sheets he'd used to cover himself and he stumbled until he fell. "Will!" Still nothing from the other man. Just the opening and closing of the door. "William," Grell repeated, unsure of what had happened.

He left? That fast? Why? For what cause? What had happened? Everything was…perfect. It was bliss and euphoria—cloud nine, ten, eleven, and beyond! Will was everything...Grell was nothing…

His body jerked as if he was sobbing and the sounds he made were more of the same, but no tears fell. His green eyes were too surprised to cry. He thought to call for William again, but his voice had left him.

Had left him.

Left.

Gone.

Grell leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor and closed his eyes tightly behind his red-framed glasses.

What good wad red now? He thought. What was in his heart was a shadow blacker than the farthest corner of his room…Why had Will gone?

What had happened?

He chased the questions and answers around in his mind but still…nothing was certain…

He felt used…disposable…cheap. He'd never felt cheap before…but Will had that ability.

That bliss and that crimson wasn't worth this…this exhaustion, this extortion, this…this...sleepy limbo…

William…

Why did he go away? What happened?

What happened?

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Woulda been a happier ending, but I plan to end this at chapter 12 and I learned that I'm going to loose my job today. I hate you big business—stealing the homey touch of small business…oh well. (Oh, and the squirrel is in the wildlife rescue center so I'm going to have a lot more free time.)

Please review. I need some good news.


	11. Lovers' Spat

Title: Lovers' Spat

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: Sad Grell…

Summary: Grell is hurting, his heart is broken, and red can't even comfort him now.

Chapter Number: #11

Author Note: An uninspired force-write, but I think it's alright. At first, I was so in the same mood as Grell and it was so easy to write, then I was no longer feeling as Grell…that's when it got hard.

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Grell did his job, but he stayed away from the office where Will was. It really wasn't in his nature to stay upset about things for so long, but even though Grell didn't understand the feeling himself, he followed his new instincts. Those instincts said not to go near anything that reminded him of William…William reminded Grell of William and avoiding Will was the only way to not…to not…

Not remember? Ha! How could he forget?

Maybe it was the only way to distract himself—the only possible way to push the memory away far enough that it wasn't so prominent, so he could think of something else…even just for a moment. His mind needed a break and he was tired of being restless.

So, after work was done for the evening, Grell wandered London's murky, damp streets in a simple attempt to avoid going home. Home was the perfect place to be to remember what had happened, maybe the best place to go to sort things out and figure out where the blame was to go, but he wasn't ready for that yet. It was best to let the wounds close a bit before picking at the scabs.

At least he still had his sense about him—he wasn't being foolish and reckless and asking the world for its advice. He stayed relatively calm while he walked, hands in pockets, head down, disguised as a human with his red pushed away—only appearing in the cord used to tie back his hair. A very bare minimum, but what good had red ever done him? It barely deserved to be present upon him. The intensity of red had caused hundreds of others to shy away from him, gave them permission to look down upon him, to avoid him, to mumble and to whisper about him. He could feel it in his chest—in his heart that was, perhaps, bathed in red blood, or blue—a constriction. It wasn't heartache he was feeling, red would never cause him to grieve. That constriction was one of hate.

But hate itself was red in colour—Grell guessed that he and red were attached in more ways than one. Perhaps that was why he loved it so.

Yes, he and red were just having a lovers' quarrel, that was all. They would get back together soon enough. Red was reliable. It would always be there.

"Hey!" Grell froze in place on the sidewalk, people bumped into him and made it known that they were angry as they brushed past him. He turned his head to the left and felt his face both lift and drop at the same time—it was a terrible feeling. (It really was!) It rose only because he was being called for and recognized the owner of the voice, it dropped because it recognized the owner of the voice's displeased expression.

When he turned his head he was greeted by covered eyes, dark clothes, and a scarred, frowning mouth.

"Come in here." Undertaker slid back into his establishment, leaving Grell on the street, staring at the door slightly bemused. He took a tentative step towards the door, was jostled by a passing man, and then straightened himself as he continued moving towards the entrance of the undertaker's shop.

When he entered and the door banged shut behind him, he saw that everything was as usual. The room was as dreary as the streets of London, a few new coffins were lining the walls, a few new bottles of chemicals were resting atop Undertaker's desk, but nothing was out of the ordinary except for Undertaker's displeasure. (However, that itself was to be expected—he was still, apparently, displeased about having lost business due to the man he'd just called in.)

"I was able to make it up to the Earl of Phantomhive for the information _you_ caused me to deny him," Undertaker said with his usual fluctuating tone. "You know how it is—I told them what I know and they went on their way." From behind his desk, Undertaker fell forward, lying on the counter like he was dying, one of his sleeves hanging down over the front and swaying back and forth slightly.

"That sounds like good news," Grell muttered.

"It _would_ be, but I didn't even get a laugh out of it because they had to wait."

"You could've just sent them on their way, then," Grell argued, looking over the colourless man who began to rise slowly.

"Not if I want to keep doing business. I would've received the best laugh of my life _ever_ if you hadn't turned them away before." Grell sighed and crossed his arms.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have complained about how people are always using you for your information and I wouldn't have done it." Undertaker huffed and straightened himself as far as he could—which wasn't much, he was still hunched slightly.

"Complain?" The Undertaker repeated in a tone that borderlined confusion and rage perfectly to where it left Grell wondering whether he should attempt to play it down or run for the door. "Just because I told you something unfortunate doesn't mean that I was complaining. You're the one who complains." As he said this, Undertaker's tone lowered and his voice became gravely.

"I do not 'always' complain!" Undertaker chuckled and Grell felt his face turn red.

"I never said you did," he replied with a smirk. Grell became more flustered, his face growing a deeper red and he turned his eyes away from those invisible ones of Undertaker quickly.

A silence fell over them for a moment, Undertaker's smirk staying solid while Grell waited for his blood to sink from his face back into his chest. Then, all at once, Undertaker made a grave "ooo" sound and sank behind the counter. Grell turned towards him, wondering if the sound was one of pain, but lost the idea when the clanking of bottles filled the air. There was a loud crack, another "ooo", but less agonized than before—more humored, actually—and then Undertaker stood back up and leaned on the counter as if nothing was amiss.

"Something wrong?" Grell asked, raising a brow as Undertaker remained silent about his secretive mixing of unknown chemicals.

"Not with me," Undertaker replied, his lips twisting into another smirk. "What about you?" Grell felt himself blush because he could feel the unseen eyes peering right through him. He was embarrassed enough to look away, but too tired and too pained to make a scene about it. Usually, he would have responded that everything in the world was _red_—everything was fantastic—and maybe even say why, but that didn't seem like something he was capable of at the moment. "I heard from a rat that was traveling my roof that your _William_ was seen going into your place of residence late at night…and that when he _left…_" The word left was drawled so emphatically that Grell felt himself grow ill. "Care to tell? The rat ran away before it could finish its tale." Undertaker chuckled and turned his head to the side. Grell had thought to refuse, but when Undertaker's head was tilted, his bangs fell away from one of his eyes and, once again, Grell thought—for sure—that he was in love. Splendid, crimson, bloody love—he felt his hair grow red with it.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Grell isn't one to stay sad forever—I don't think it's even possible. It's a good thing he saw Undertaker before Sebastian, otherwise he might end up hurt again…But what does Undertaker have in store? (Does he have anything? He must! He pulled out his secret weapon!) Wait and see in the Climactic, FINAL chapter, chapter 12.


	12. The Drop of A Hat

Title: The Drop of a Hat

Pairing: Grell X either Sebastian, William, or Undertaker (that's the whole plot)

Rating: T—M, depending on where I stray to

Story Contains: Yaoi, and Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Sebastian has never shown love, William has broken his heart, and Undertaker is just creepy! But Grell isn't Grell if his heart isn't bursting with love. But to where is his heart waning? It's an all out battle to win him, but not all of them men are really involved. Still, who will reign victorious?

Chapter Number: #12

Author Note: I love you all and I'd love to stay with you longer, but you deserve an ending—the proof of my love. Not all will be satisfied, but it's only because there are three bachelors and I can only choose one to be with Grell—but I can promise you that it won't be—ha! I'm not telling you.

Second Note: A lot of this fic is written like Grell's internal ramblings, not "my writing". So when it strays and you go "hey? What the heck, that was choppy" blame Grell. He's the one thinking.

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Grell sat on the couch in Undertaker's upstairs room, holding a cup of tasteless tea and watching as the undertaker devoured cookies with less flavor than the objects they resembled—bones. They had moved upstairs after the last customer of the day had come and left, only passing Grell (whose hair had returned to being red and free to fly and whose glasses returned to being red as well) a momentary glance. Undertaker was sitting in the chair again, eating and drinking while watching (or not) Grell from behind a curtain of bangs. Bangs which concealed eyes that could force Grell to do anything or say anything in the world. They were such lovely eyes…

"So, the rat scurried away before he could tell me just what happened after William left your domicile," Undertaker drawled in a gravely voice. His lips twitched upwards with a smile, a crooked smile, and Grell felt his heart sink. He didn't want to think about William, not in the presence of Undertaker who, albeit unusualin figure, not ugly, but _unusual_, held sickeningly beautiful eyes. Eyes which warmed Grell to the very core—warmed away the ice that frigid William had put there. "_Well_?"

"Well what?" Grell asked, shrugging theatrically. "William came and William left," he said as he forced on a flamboyant grin. "Just like all the rest."

"Oh?" Undertaker inquired.

"What?" Grell snapped, hiding his pain with mock, theatrical anger.

"Just like all the rest…?" Undertaker repeated, eyes hidden but Grell could almost sense the confusion in them. "I disagree."

"Well, what do you know?" Grell retorted, crossing his legs dramatically and leaning back in his seat.

"Rats are reliable, they won't waste time telling tales—" his face broke into a grin "—that have been told before. That's no way to captivate an audience." He chuckled to himself in a husky way and Grell pulled into himself slightly self-consciously. He wondered who this rat was and how long it'd been spying. "Not going to tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell," Grell replied quickly with a pout. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head away. He kept his eyes trained on Undertaker however—what fun would it be to miss his reaction?—and watched his lips tilt in a frown.

Grell let his eyes flick away and stare at a crack in the wall and allowed his mind to wander. He thought about this gossiping rat and about William. What had been William's plan? If he hadn't been interested, why had he pretended? Was he just another one of…those? Coming and going and never speaking of it again? Getting what he wanted, giving less than a small fraction of what Grell wanted, and then disappearing and taking it all back? He must have been.

Grell sighed heavily, a sort of mild anger and bitterness clouding his brain instead of sadness and tears. He welcomed it, but still felt a distant yearning for the emptiness he'd had before. Before mixing with William, before laying eyes on Sebas-chan even…sure, it was lonely, it was dark and a bit sad, but it was better than _this_. Feeling lost and helpless was a little better than feeling used and…violated.

He rolled his eyes back to Undertaker's seat and jolted. He'd disappeared! It was rude enough asking private questions, but running away when a lady has her eye turned was just…just _unacceptable_!

Then, body stiffening with awareness, Grell turned his eyes and then his head slowly towards his other side—the previously empty side of the couch. Of _course_ that's where Undertaker had gone, Grell realized uneasily as he felt a long nail begin to trace his leg upwards from his knee before disappearing over his hip. Grell swallowed back a lump in his throat and kept his eyes subtly darting from Undertaker's gnarled mouth and invisible eyes.

On any other day—at any other _time_ Grell knew he would have been bursting out of his skin in euphoria. Yes! Another creature expressing interest in _him_! Touching _him_! Grinning at _him_! But today, in the bitter, teary aftermath of William's foul trick he couldn't find any more than the tiniest scraps of elation. So what if the undertaker with the pretty eyes was touching him? _So what?_ He was an undertaker—a creepy one—who would ever willingly make love to that?

Ha! He was probably just deprived and restless from an extensive period of physical neglect and some _rat_ probably informed him of an easy shinigami in the neighborhood who was in a delicate state.

Usually, Grell knew, he would find himself rolling his eyes at such thoughts and leaning over for a kiss and doing everything in his power to ensure that more touches followed the brief line of contact that traveled his leg. Usually he would be enraptured in the passion, apathetic about the next morning and whether or not the "relationship" could possibly advance. Usually…he wouldn't care, but today he did, and he pulled away from the contact he knew that he wanted.

Unlike the others, Undertaker seemed to be capable of taking a hint. He retracted his hands into his lap, but he remained smirking and Grell could hear the hidden eyes chuckling at him as if to say "aw, he's scared of me".

Because it was Grell, however, sitting next to Undertaker and not a normal, sensible wounded person, it didn't take long for the redheaded reaper to scoot back where he had been—his thigh nearly touching the undertaker's thigh. (If the sheaf of bleak fabric really _was_ Undertaker's thigh and not just a sagging bundle of heavy fabric, that is.) Undertaker chuckled with his voice this time instead of his eyes, and his lips parted to expose a tooth-filled smirk. It was as friendly as a smirk could be, and since Grell was certain that the only form of smile that Undertaker could produce _was_ a smirk, Grell found himself beginning to smile as well.

It was a good thing, being Grell—or so Grell decided as he happily wound his arms around Undertaker's left one and rested his head elatedly on the other man's shoulder. While most _normal_ people—no! Not just normal people, _all_ people (normal, theatrical, human, inhuman, dead, or alive)—While ALL other people would still be sobbing over the horrible, despicable, _detestable_ stunt that William had pulled, Grell was able to feel more happiness than ever.

That is to say, he healed rather quickly, but it didn't surprise him because he was too busy being happy to notice. As long as there was another being to direct his affection towards, he was all right. Grell's gift, aside from being red and judging souls, was the ability to know that there was an infinite number of "fish in the sea" (he himself being one of them—but more of a dolphin than a fish since fish could be rather ugly and dolphins are almost always cute…that would make Will an ugly, nasty Angler fish!). With this knowledge, he was always able to find someone else and…and rub it in William's face! His ugly, fishy face!

Grell laughed to himself almost manically and nuzzled Undertaker's arm ecstatically. While _William_ was spending the night all alone (probably saying to himself "I'm such a fool! How could I have left _him_?"), Grell had already moved on to _much_ better things.

Right?

Snapping out of his dizzy love-struck frenzy brought upon by two brief memories of two separate glimpses of amazing eyes, Grell silenced himself and retracted himself to the other side of the couch. Undertaker made a very small, very subtle moan of displeasure that went unnoticed by his houseguest.

_Was_ Undertaker a "better thing", or was he just another William in waiting?

Grell shuddered and turned his eyes towards Undertaker… He felt nauseous and dizzy, but he was sure it wasn't because of the bland tea and cookies. Not even hours ago he'd been intoxicated with agony, then anger, then bliss, then euphoria, then…ugh…even _he_ was confused. Never before had he felt so conflicted in his entire _existence._

He wanted to be happy, in fact, he was _dying_ to feel even the slightest bit of the ecstasy he had felt when—what seemed like years ago—William had shown his first hints of interest. Grell wasn't a martyr, being depressed just wasn't in his character, but he didn't want to blindly smash into another brick wall…metaphorically, because colliding with a _real_ wall would definitely leave a mark on his face which was—did he need to say it?—unacceptable.

Oh yes, Grell thought as he called back his thoughts, he was beginning to feel like his old, red self again. But an improved version he decided since he was feeling a very _strong_ tug of apprehension in his chest instead of the slight pull he used to feel around Will.

But Undertaker wasn't William, Grell argued. Undertaker didn't like William, and Undertaker actually showed some types of emotions whereas Will spent most of his days barking orders and being "cool". Undertaker seemed lonely, William never seemed lonely…

Grell was lonely…

With a sigh, he moved back towards Undertaker and leaned his head down onto the other man's shoulder.

Oh how he wished for the tension to go away. Even if Undertaker started making advances, even if he started _talking_, Grell would still be taunted by his fear that Undertaker was just another William. He refused to fall into the same trap twice—especially twice in a row.

Some might have believed that he's stupid, but they were wrong! He just so happened to be _quite_ observant.

Grell pursed his lips at the thought of his judgmental audience. It was _he_ who was _their_ judge and they would do best to remember that!

"Pouting?" Undertaker drawled with a chuckle, drawing his arm up and around Grell's shoulders to pull him closer and leaving Grell's head on his chest. Grell's face pulled into a nearly feline expression of surprise and he blinked rapidly several times before turning his eyes up to the veiled ones of the undertaker. It took everything in his power to keep from melting at that moment. Between strands of hair, Grell was certain he'd seen a bit of eye.

Grell lifted his head slightly, pulling more of himself onto the couch but not wholly certain that he wanted to stay…or that he wanted to go.

_Undertaker _was observant. With his free hand, the arm that wasn't wound securely around Grell's shoulders, Undertaker shook back his baggy sleeve and lifted Grell's chin farther, long nails touching more flesh than the fingertips.

Grell swallowed as he locked eyes with the undertaker, knowing for sure that he was being seen through the curtain of hair. His breath sped up as Undertaker leaned down, and his breathing abruptly ceased when their lips touched.

He wanted to laugh so hard, but he contained it and hid it well. Who knew the undertaker was so…so… aww worthy. Not "awe worthy" but worthy of the gushy sound that cuteness forces humans (and the similar) to emit. The kiss was so gentle and so brief, hardly anything more than a soft peck, and yet Undertaker (despite remaining colourless) looked embarrassed. He pulled his hand away, letting Grell support the weight of his own head, and gazed ahead at the coffee table…or something near it. Grell couldn't really tell.

The minutes proceeding the nearly juvenile kiss proved awkward. Undertaker's mouth stayed drawn down in disappointment or…maybe contemplation—whatever emotion it was, he wasn't moving any more than to breathe. Grell stayed staring up at him with his head resting against his chest, waiting for something to change. When nothing did, he let his mind wander, pulled it back, and made his decision with the help of a roving flashback.

At first, he daydreamed of leaning up and kissing Undertaker himself, teaching the apparently inexperienced man how to kiss properly and passionately. Maybe even pulling Undertaker down over top of him and knocking the man's hat away with one hand and swishing his bangs aside with the other to catch another glimpse of those lovely eyes.

Then the flashback struck him, though he couldn't distinctly recall where it had come from. Who was that woman? Why was she so happy?

_Grell! Make them work for it!_

Grell mentally shrugged, but mystery-woman had a point. Make them work for it? Alright, he could try that. What could it hurt?

…How was that done again? By practicing modern chivalry? Hiring escorts, attending balls…? Well, there was the no touching on the first "date"—that had already happened, right? Yeah, Grell remembered. He sat on the couch, Undertaker in the chair, they talked and "enjoyed" tasteless food. No touch…right? This time they kissed…

He had to leave…

Grell frowned at the idea, but knew he had to. It wasn't a lie that he _wanted_ to grab Undertaker and pull him down and knock off his hat, teach him how to kiss, push the bangs out of his eyes, and do _other_ fun things, but, strangely enough, he didn't feel prepared to. It was probably best that he didn't, so he sat up and let Undertaker withdraw his arm.

But he couldn't just _leave_…what about what Undertaker had said before? Those phrases that had alluded to his feelings of loneliness and exploitation? And then that small kiss. No adult kissed like that unless…unless they'd never kissed before. Not seriously at least…

That would explain the undertaker's sudden increase in dreariness. He was insecure, uncertain…shy? No…maybe not shy, but at least unconfident.

Grell found himself feeling guilty. He could sympathize with Undertaker—if the feelings he thought Undertaker was expressing were really what was there—being exploited, being alone. Maybe the emotions were based on different things, Grell's on bad lovers and Undertaker on his business, but they were still the same feelings. If he just walked off now, he'd be the William in the equation, wouldn't he? Waiting until the affection was gathered up and then…walking out.

No…he couldn't just leave…he'd have to do something else…not sleep with him, no; it was too soon for that…

Ah, Grell knew what to do…

Leaning forward again, Grell recaptured Undertaker's attention and pressed his lips to his once more. He kept his tongue to himself, but kept the kiss long, and kept their lips touching lovingly…but not too long though. After a time he pulled away and offered Undertaker a smile.

When he didn't get one in return he allowed his shoulders to droop slightly.

He was experienced, he knew what to do.

Undertaker…an undertaker has a relatively eerie job. No one pays much mind to an undertaker who spends his days with the dead, especially not one with a massive disfiguring scar and an off-putting sense of humor. The only time people want around someone like that would be if they want his information (Undertaker, tell us what you know!) or if they need to get rid of a dead body…

Yes, Grell knew what to do.

When he felt Undertaker's eyes on him but received no other signals, Grell self-consciously looked away and pressed a finger between his lips and against one of his own sharp teeth. Undertaker was self-conscious? Well, Grell could be too.

He remained that way for an oddly long time before Undertaker said anything. So long, in fact, that Grell began to feel that Undertaker really _did_ harbor feelings against him because of his "fangs". That thought made him uneasy. He only pretended to be self-conscious about them to sympathize with Undertaker, but he'd begun to legitimately feel insecure.

"I think," Undertaker stated, staring ahead, "that they're…intriguing. " He chuckled to himself and his lips twisted into a grin and he turned towards Grell with an almost horrifyingly twisted/cheerful face. "If you turn into a corpse before I do, I think I'll keep your skull on the front desk as a work of art…" Grell stared at him with undisguised shock. His mouth had gone dry and he couldn't get his eyes to blink or even shrink back to a normal size.

"Thank you…I think…" Grell stated after swallowing hard, forcing his lips to twitch into a smile. He wanted to tell the undertaker that no one was beheading him and ruining his face by cutting off his flesh, but he was sure that that would cause nothing but trouble. And, after all, Undertaker had given him a compliment…right?

Right?

Grell wasn't sure, but Undertaker was still smiling a crooked smile, so he guessed that there was no ill will behind the words.

Right?

"A-and if you turn into a corpse before me," Grell stammered, refraining from mentioning the words "death", "dead", or "die" since Undertaker had neglected them before, "I'll keep your…your eyes as…as…memorabilia." At first, Undertaker's face drooped, so Grell's did as well.

It was like that for less than a moment before the colourless reaper let out of coo of either delight or intrigue and began grinning malevolently.

"Ooo, this idea sounds most amusing." He followed his statement with a few short, almost forced-sounding chuckles. "But tell me, when I'm a corpse, who are you going to employ to preserve my body…seeing as I won't be able to do it myself since I'll be blind and cannot do it before hand?" Grell stiffened. He actually sounded…serious. "Who are you giving my job away to?"

He _was_ serious…

"My…self?" Grell suggested, blinking rapidly. Undertaker's mouth seemed to drop off of his face and he turned to face ahead of himself once more.

"I think that most fitting," Undertaker said with a definite nod. In fact, the nod was so strong that his hat slid forward and dropped onto the floor.

Both of them stared at it for a moment, and then turned to each other.

Grell found himself nearly in tears—the good kind. When the hat had slid away (or when the undertaker nodded his head) the bangs had slid away from Undertaker's left eye, rendering Grell powerless.

_Grell! Make them work for it!_ Whoever you were, silence yourself!

Grell's momentary self-control had dissipated just like that…

At the drop of a single, large, rather ugly, black hat…

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I'm not sure if you are familiar with Shakespeare's work, but (often times) when he ends a scene of a play with a rhyme he is foreshadowing future events.

Have you caught the hint? No? Then I shall shout it out…

There will be a sequel everyone! Involving an unwanted apprenticeship and shinigami romance!

Please be patient while I ponder how to start it. It won't be as long as this one, but it shall be…simpler and with less conflict. (i.e. I'm making a light-hearted romance…it's a dangerous, new territory for me.)

Thank you all for reading this far and for your support throughout. I will see you all soon!


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